


Bratva

by LadyOneiroi



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Based on a lot of dumb headcanons, Gen, Russian Mafia, Russian!Dallas, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:24:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOneiroi/pseuds/LadyOneiroi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Code is everything to Dallas, and the only laws he will ever abide by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bratva

When Dallas Winston was still a child, his mother would try and share what she knew of her parent’s culture. She would hold her little boy close and sing quietly in Russian, but it is not lullabies that Dallas remembers. She would share stories of the village her mother grew up in, trying to help Dallas envision the land of his forefathers. Dallas does not remember how his mother would smile and describe the rivers and tall trees, either.

Truth be told, Dallas remembers little of his mother, and less of what she taught him. He remembers white hair and eyes like emeralds, he remembers being called sweetpea so often he legitimately thought it was his name, and he remembers finding his mother in a tub full of red water when he was five years old. Those are all of his memories. No Russian lessons, no lullabies, no tiny villages.

What he does remember is the strange set of values picked up from his time with the gangs of New York. Those Russian beliefs, they stayed with him, shaping him into the monster he became. He carried those lessons all the way to Tulsa, and he remembered them until he broke down the night he died.

He does not show emotion. It frightens the Curtis boys, the way the too-pale, ghoulish boy just does not let his emotions rise to the surface. His composure is absolute, and if he feels anything, he does not show it. He attacks people, yes, and he harasses others, but he does it so matter-of-factly, as if it’s nothing personal. There is no emotion to his cruelty. The day Dallas finds a place with Buck and Mrs. Curtis allows the Yankee to leave her house, her sons breathe a sigh of relief. They didn’t like looking at Dallas and seeing a block of ice.

Steve is the one who makes the mistake of asking after Dallas’ family. Surely the creep had someone back in New York, be it a worried mother or an uncaring father. Dallas looks at the taller boy as if he has made the ultimate mistake, and even headstrong, reckless Steve feels something akin to fear. Dallas lights a cigarette, and his friend has the sinking feeling it will be put out someone on his anatomy. “I don’t have family." Dallas answered simply. Steve doesn’t press the issue. Whatever family Dallas had, he’s forsaken them, and so long as Dallas doesn’t make any sudden moves, Steve won’t speak again for the rest of the car ride.

Buck presses Dallas to get a real job so he can pay his rent on time. Dallas glares at the older man and goes back to playing darts. Actual work goes against what Dallas stands for, apparently. The kid acts ornery whenever the subject is brought up, often treating Buck as though he was talking shit. Finally, the cowboy gives up and decides to just start tormenting the kid whenever he’s a day late and a dollar short. Apparently New Yorkers are too good for a real job. Buck never realizes it’s not being a Yankee that compels Dallas to avoid honest work.

Dallas does not turn his back on his friends. He helps them whenever he can, in any way that he can. Cold though he is, Dallas is not disloyal. when Two-Bit is about to get pegged for broken windows, it is Dallas that steps forward, grinning like the devil himself and taking all the blame for the ginger’s crime. Two-Bit is shocked, to say the least, looking the harsh boy over for any joke in his actions. As Dallas is arrested, he shoots Two-Bit a real grin, like a kid getting on a roller coaster. It is in that moment Two-Bit he realizes he will never understand the boy if they live to be a hundred.

Soda cannot get through to Dallas. The pale boy is as unreadable as a foreign book, leaning against the bar smoking. Soda knows it’s his brother’s sweatshirt he found in Dallas’ room, but the hood cannot be coerced into speaking. It would break the code to reveal Johnny and Pony’s whereabouts, though Soda is unaware of Dallas’ convictions. He shoves a letter into the older greaser’s hands, knowing he will never forgive Dallas for this cruelty. The smoking teen makes one final assurance that he does not know the refugees whereabouts, but he puts the letter in his jacket.

Johnny was always in awe of Dallas. He tried to teach Johnny everything he knew, took the young boy under his wing with a smirk and a spring in his step. He says it is a code, what he is teaching Johnny. He says it is the only way to live. Parts of Dallas’ words seem, to Johnny, common sense, but other parts frighten him. This code causes people to lead a lonely life, Johnny decides. While it may be tailor-made for a creature like Dallas, it does not sit well with his student. “Sad." Dallas says as he lights a new cigarette. “I thought you coulda been somebody." Johnny doesn’t say anything in reply, but Dallas musses his hair like he always does and it seems things have gone back to normal.

Tim is called Vor by the blond, in the dead of night when it is just the two of them and all the opportunities for chaos in the world. He doesn’t understand the shit Dallas is spewing, but the boy is in a high mood and grinning that sharks grin, a smile that arrives and vanishes as suddenly as a summer downpour. “What the fuck does that mean?" Tim growls. Dallas sighs and downs the last of his beer.

"It means we’re brothers."

Tim belts Dallas in the mouth for the words, but all the New Yorker does is laugh. Tim knows the code, even if he was never taught it. He is a true Thief. Dallas respects that, even if Tim wishes he didn’t.

In another life, Dallas might have become the best of the best, reaching the elites by his mid-twenties, living in opulence and violence and loving every moment he was a member of the Bratva. In the life, he led, all he could do was cling to what little honor the gangs had taught him, and die forsaking the same code he strived to live by.

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr transfer, yippee.
> 
> I just have a lot of headcanons that Dallas' mother had Russian family and Dallas fell in with the Red Mafia in the period between him running away from home and his reaching Tulsa. Forgive me.  
> Crit is always welcome, and thank you for reading!


End file.
